


where is your boy tonight? (i hope he is a slytherin)

by deerie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternative Universe - Triad Verse, Bilingual Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, F/F, F/M, Fights, Friendship, Happy Derek, Happy Ending, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic-Users, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sick Stiles, St Mungo's Hospital, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Werewolf Senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerie/pseuds/deerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wishes he could just worry about things like passing his classes and not getting eaten during his Care of Magical Creatures class with Professor Lovegood during his last year at Hogwarts. That's kind of hard to do when the people who put him and his other-mother under the Cruciatus Curse at the end of his sixth year are on the lam. He definitely doesn't have time to worry about adding another person to their relationship, no matter what Scott keeps saying about Derek Hale. And Derek comes with his own set of problems, like a past that might be more relevant to Stiles' current problems than he realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where is your boy tonight? (i hope he is a slytherin)

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! This is what I've been working on for the past however long. This fic was written for the [Triad Verse Big Bang](http://triadversebang.livejournal.com/) \- and as such, triad relationships are normalized. 
> 
> I would like to thank [Loren](http://cieleezy.tumblr.com/), my beta, who literally swooped in and saved the day. This fic would be in no way resembling ready for today if it wasn't for her. I would also like to thank [Rebecca](http://clumsykisses.tumblr.com), [Nikki](http://honeybearbee.tumblr.com), and [pterawaters](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com) and everyone else who encouraged me to finish this story. Double thanks to [Brenda](http://thefandomwing.tumblr.com), who helped me with the Spanish in the story.
> 
> Some things to keep in mind before jumping in: ages have been liberally messed with and werewolf canon - from both Teen Wolf and Harry Potter - has kind of been smashed together. There aren't different werewolf ranks - like alpha or beta - present in this fic. When you run into the Spanish in this fic, you should be able to hover over the text and have the translation appear. If it doesn't work for you, you can find the translations in the end notes. The title is lovingly mangled from Fall Out Boy's "Grand Theft Autumn".
> 
> You can find an explanation of the warnings down at the end notes if you are so inclined. 
> 
> Check out the awesome [fanmix](http://www.mediafire.com/download/w40r8k5pol0dvio/Slytherin.zip) by [gala_apples](http://gala-apples.livejournal.com/)!
> 
> Happy reading, friends! :)

“Hell,” Stiles starts, reaching out a hand to brace himself on Scott’s shoulder before he falls and makes a fool of himself on the train, “Hell is zero empty compartments. Do you think we could kick some first years out of theirs? This is our last year, Scott, I think we’ve earned that right.”

Scott huffs a laugh and steadies himself so Stiles doesn’t bring him down to the floor too when he inevitably falls. “No, man, I don’t think we can do that.”

Stiles claps him on the shoulder and stands upright. “I want you to think about it, though. Give it some serious consideration.”

Scott shoots a grin back his way and leads them down the corridor. Stiles watches as they pass full train compartment after full train compartment. Some of these kids will be his new housemates. Stiles wrinkles his nose.

Scott slides a door to a compartment open and pokes his head inside. He must decide that it’s acceptable because he reaches out and grabs Stiles by his tie and yanks him inside behind him.

“Lydia!” Stiles says cheerfully as he disentangles himself from his too tight tie. “Light of my life, fire of my –”

“No,” Lydia says, effectively shutting down that line of conversation. She graciously lets them sit with her, however, so Stiles counts it as a win.

“How was your summer?” Scott asks.

Lydia flashes a brief, but nonetheless brilliant, grin. “Good,” she says. “Kira and I spent some time with Allison at her family’s estate in France. I took some courses at a muggle university.”

“Where are Allison and Kira?” Stiles asks. “Also, did you really take a break from school by doing _more_ school?”

“They’ll be here soon. My father dropped me off ridiculously early like he always does, so I thought I might as well go ahead and save a compartment for the three of us before all the first years spread themselves out among them.” Lydia sniffs haughtily and says, “And my coursework is bound to be leaps and bounds more exciting than whatever it was you got up to, Stilinski.”

Stiles exhales audibly through his rounded mouth and touches his chest, “Ouch, last names, really?”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You’re unusually prickly today, Stiles.”

Stiles shoots her a wounded look.  Scott wraps his hand around Stiles’.

“Whatever happened to that girl you two were dating?” Lydia asks. “Helen? No, what was her name?”

Stiles stands up. “Well, this has been fun. So much fun. I’m going to go find a compartment with a first year who won’t talk to me.”

He doesn’t get very far because Scott hangs onto his hand and refuses to stand up. Instead, Scott turns to Lydia and says, “Her name is Heather. It just wasn’t working out, so we broke up over the summer.”

To Stiles, he says, “Sit down, Stiles. She didn’t mean it like that.”

Stiles scowls but sits back down, mostly because Allison pushes him into his seat as she comes in to make room for herself.

“Hey, guys,” she grins. “Hi, Lydia.”

She leans down and presses a kiss against the side of Lydia’s mouth. Lydia moves her bag so Allison can sit down next to her. “Where’s Kira?”

Allison waves vaguely down the corridor and says, “She’s coming. She stopped to talk to Danny.”

Scott tightens his grip on Stiles’ hand, so Stiles flips it over and tangles their fingers together. Scott leans over and digs his bony chin against Stiles’ shoulder.

It’s Allison who asks, “Are you okay, Stiles?”

Stiles rubs the back of his free hand against his eyes and shakes his head, “Uh, yeah, sorry. I guess I’m kind of on edge.”

She nods her head softly like they all don’t know exactly what happened at the end of last year and says, “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” he says. He shrugs around Scott’s chin but Scott is stubborn and wriggles until his cheek is pressed against the curve between Stiles’ neck and shoulder. Scott is – he’s sickeningly sweet. Stiles kind of loves him for it.

The train begins to judder, signaling that it’s about to start moving, just as Kira slides in the door. “Hey,” she says, breathless. She slides into the last free seat on the girls’ bench and a grin breaks out across her face. “So I heard there’s a new Care of Magical Creatures professor this year.”

Stiles nods. “Luna Lovegood.”

Lydia zeroes in on him. “How do you know that?”

Stiles waves a hand in the air. “We’re cousins –” he stops and grimaces. “It’s complicated and not that important.”

Stiles parks his chin on top of Scott’s head and stares out the window, scenery whipping past. Lydia – Lydia’s a good friend, but she wants to know so much. At least he can rely on her not to act any differently toward him.

His prayers for an interruption are answered when the witch who pushes the trolley every year comes by their compartment. “Anything from the trolley, my dears?”

Scott disentangles from Stiles and grins, “How many chocolate frogs can I possibly buy?”

He reaches into his pockets and then reaches into Stiles’ pockets to hunt for loose sickles there too. He counts what he finds and then reaches over to pass the witch his change. “Four chocolate frogs, please.”

The witch passes over the four boxes and looks at the girls. Kira buys a cauldron cake and splits it three ways as the cart gets pushed to the next compartment. She hands a piece to Allison and Lydia. Lydia smiles indulgently at her.

Scott opens the first box and Stiles catches the chocolate frog before it can jump away – they have a system. It works for them.

“A galleon says all these cards are Harry Potter,” Scott says through a mouthful of chocolate.

Stiles settles in for the long ride to Hogwarts. He scratches his chin and says, “Don’t start gambling, Scottie,” and holds up a twinkling portrait of Merlin.

 

***

 

_Everything hurts so badly. Fire spreads up and down his back and into his limbs. Stiles tries to suck air into his lungs, but every lungful he gulps down expels itself almost immediately as a scream that tears its way from his throat._

_Nona writhes on the ground next to him, caught up in a similar hell. He wants to reach a hand out and grab her hands but they curl into claws with every new wave of pain and his fingers dig into the soft dirt._

_Stiles tries to look up at their attackers instead, but all he can see are the boots of the man who points his wand down at him and whispers for a third time,_ “Crucio.”

_Pain bursts through Stiles’ body again – pain on top of pain that never ended in the first place – and he screams again._

_He can hear Nona – one of his_ mothers – _sobbing. He can see her body flexing in pain as the woman torturing her lets Cruciatus curse after Cruciatus curse fly._

_Stiles and Nona – they’re screaming so loudly, why can’t anyone hear them? Why is no one coming to the rescue?_

_They’re being tortured on the front lawn of Hogwarts, Stiles thinks wildly, and no one is coming to help them._

_Stiles lays limply on the ground and the man leaves him there. He walks over to his companion and must say something to her because she shoots another Unforgivable curse at Nona – and really, Stiles understands why the Cruciatus curse is considered unforgivable now, he really does; he understands why intimately – and then the pair walk away._

_The barrier the dark wizards must have put up to silence the torture falls away with a flick of the man’s wand and suddenly all the sound rushes back around Stiles and Nona._

_People begin to swarm through the huge front doors of the castle, drawn out by Stiles’ screams._

_His mother isn’t screaming anymore. His mother makes no noise, splayed out as she is on the lawn._

_Stiles tries to roll over and reach out to her. He needs to know that she’s alive. The pain burns through his body, but he has to know if she’s okay. He can’t lose another mother; he’ll never survive it._

_Stiles thinks he sees the Headmaster rush past them, after the pair who had the audacity to do something like this on school grounds, but the man melts into the Dark Forest before the Headmaster can catch him._

_Someone falls to their knees beside Stiles, but he doesn’t know who it is, isn’t concerned with who it is. He just needs to make sure Nona is still breathing._

_Stiles manages to drag himself close enough that he reach out a hand and touch her stomach, feel the incredibly slow exhale and inhale of breath there._

_The last thing Stiles hears is Headmaster Deaton shouting,_ “Stupefy!” _and a sharp gasp as the woman falls, stunned, to the ground._

_Stiles finally, blessedly, loses consciousness._

 

***

 

Stiles wakes up all at once as the train pulls to a stop. Scott brings a hand up to cup around the back of Stiles’ head and Stiles hides his surprise at not waking up screaming into Scott’s shoulder.

The girls kindly don’t mention anything one way or the other, but Stiles can see Lydia eyeing him speculatively when he glances up. He looks back down almost immediately and tries to shake off the growing panic from the nightmare – no, the memory.

Stiles is glad they don’t share a house, because he’s not so sure he could deal with Lydia’s curiosity nonstop.

Stiles finally pulls back from the hug because Scott will never be the type of person who lets go first.

When Stiles is sure he can speak without his voice shaking, he says, “Robes. I should probably put those on now. I have to say, I did not miss robes over the summer.”

Scott crooks a smile at him and passes Stiles his set of robes.

Stiles slips them on over his uniform and then holds out his arms. “How do I look, Scottie?”

Scott leans forward to straighten his tie. “Just like the Slytherin you are,” he says. “Don’t go scaring too many first years.”

“Don’t adopt any more first years,” Stiles replies. “Seriously, no more. I can’t handle any more bright eyed, bushy tailed Hufflepuff first years. You’re too nice. Gives me a rash.”

“You two are sickening,” Lydia groans, “and that’s saying something, because I have the cutest relationship ever.”

Allison and Kira look up in sync and smile, almost like they’re proving Lydia’s point. Knowing them, they do it on purpose. Stiles wouldn’t even begin to put it past them.

They all file out of the train compartment one after the other and spill out onto the train platform. Scott pushes a few confused first years in the right direction and Stiles reaffirms, “No adopting. I mean it.”

“Helping isn’t adopting, Stiles,” Scott says.

“Helping is the _first step_ to adopting.” Stiles slings his arm around Scott’s shoulder. “Come on, I want to get a good spot at the Slytherin table. Preferably as far away from Lahey as possible.”

A voice rings out from behind them, “I heard that, Stilinski!”

Stiles whips his head around as Isaac slinks off the train. Erica and Boyd step off after him.

“Ah, look, my least favorite housemate,” Stiles says magnanimously. “So you haven’t shipped off to Durmstrang yet, I see.”

Isaac smirks at him as Boyd begins to herd the group toward the carriages. Lydia, Kira, and Allison have already found a carriage with some other classmates, so Scott finds them an empty one.

The carriage takes off once everyone settles on the benches.

Stiles eyes the thestrals the same way he’s always eyed the thestrals – one part suspicion, one part bitterness. Erica catches him looking and jabs an elbow into his side. “Guess who made Head Boy this year.”

“Not me,” Stiles deadpans.

“You’re right!” Erica grins. “It’s Boyd.”

Scott leans forward in his seat and says, “Congrats, man!”

“Who’s the Head Girl?” Stiles asks.

“Why do you even ask? I know you don’t care,” Boyd replies. Erica jabs her other elbow into his side. Boyd wrinkles his nose at her but says, “Braeden got it.”

Stiles nods sagely. “You’re right, I really don’t care.”

Stiles does want to talk with whoever it is that decides who the picks the students for Head Boy and Girl. He has no idea how _Braeden_ of all people found herself as Head Girl. Stiles is pretty sure you have to have upstanding moral character and Braeden is as Slytherin as they come, antiquated stereotypes aside.

Stiles knows for a fact she can be bought, okay, there was the thing fourth year with the – and whoa, Stiles is getting way off track. The point is – _how_?

Okay, maybe he cares a little bit – the tiniest, hardly even worth mentioning bit.

Boyd rolls his eyes as he gets off the carriage like he can see Stiles’ thought process – which, no. Boyd may be in Ravenclaw, but he’s not that good – and everyone piles off after him and up the steps that lead to the Great Hall.

Scott grabs Stiles’ hand on the way up and doesn’t even mention how sweaty Stiles’ hand is. That’s how Stiles knows what they have is True Love.

“Are you okay?” Scott whispers.

Stiles nods roughly and doesn’t look behind them at all. He doesn’t want to see the spot he was attacked. Stiles squeezes Scott’s hand tighter.

“Come find me if you need me,” Scott says firmly. “You know where my common room is.”

“I’ll never be able to get in there,” Stiles says thickly. “I have no rhythm, you know that.”

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“No, I know,” Stiles says. “I’ll be okay. Isaac will be there, and Malia too.”

Scott nods and looks around. Stiles follows his gaze and watches as Malia breaks away from Jackson and veers toward them.

Stiles gets the feeling he’s about to be traded off like a sack of potatoes.

“You know I hate it when you do this, Scott,” Stiles groans.

Malia grins and grabs onto Stiles’ free arm. “I will take care of him from here.”

Scott smiles and says, “Thank you. Keep him from being too mean to the new kids.”

“You’re trusting _her_ for that?” Stiles asks incredulously. “Have you met Malia?”

Scott doesn’t say anything, but he does smack a kiss against Stiles’ cheek as they split for their respective tables. Isaac follows Malia and Stiles at a sedate pace.

“You okay?” Malia asks brusquely.

“I wish people would stop looking at me like I’m not,” Stiles says instead.

Isaac rounds out their group and says, “Well, luckily you have me for that.”

“That’s what I keep you around for,” Stiles says as he slips into a seat near the middle of the table. Isaac and Malia flank him. “How long do you think the Sorting Ceremony’s going to last this year?”

Malia groans under her breath. “It can’t be any longer than the one during third year.”

Stiles thinks about it – Malia’s third year was his fourth year – and then mirrors her groan. “First years for literal years,” he complains. “By the time they were done sorting, the next batch of first years were waiting to be sorted.”

A ghost of a grin crosses Isaac’s mouth.

Headmaster Deaton gets up to say his piece and then the Sorting Ceremony begins. Quite a few first years make it into Gryffindor. There’s one first year who gets sorted into Hufflepuff and Stiles just knows he’s going to be seeing more of the kid. He looks exactly like the type of confused puppy Scott would take under his wing.

The Slytherin table claps politely when a few new members join their ranks, including two siblings who Stiles may or may not be referring to as “Murder Twins” in his head. Stiles makes eye contact with Isaac and he’s ninety-percent sure Isaac is thinking the exact same thing he is.

Stiles swallows a laugh and digs in once the feast appears on the table. There are perks to going to Hogwarts. The food is totally one of them.

 

***

 

Stiles wakes up in the middle of a scream to hands pulling him up into a sitting position. He struggles against the hands of whoever’s holding him up until Isaac frantically whispers, “Lumos!”

The tip of Isaac’s wand lights up the inside of Stiles’ bed, soft white light bouncing into every corner of the green curtains. “Stiles! Stiles,” Isaac says, voice loud in the relative peace of the night. “It’s okay, Stiles!”

It takes Stiles a moment to get his bearings and calm down. He heaves in great gulps of air, trying to ward off the oncoming panic attack he can feel brewing along his frayed edges. “Shit,” Stiles swears. “ _Shit_.”

His hands come up to grasp at the sleeves of Isaac’s pajamas. Isaac’s hands rest against his shoulders and he has one knee up on Stiles’ bed, curtains thrown open around him.

A few minutes later has Stiles unclenching his hands from Isaac’s shirt and leaning back. “I’m sorry,” Stiles says quietly. “I must have forgotten to cast a silencing charm.”

Isaac’s mouth creases into a frown and he says, “You didn’t forget. I woke up and saw the curtains moving.”

Stiles looks over at Isaac’s bed. The covers look like they were hastily thrown back.

“I am right there,” Isaac says as he follows Stiles’ gaze. “I sleep right there. Of course I was going to wake you up. You’ve done it for me before. It’s not any different now.”

Stiles shrugs but doesn’t offer anything back. He can’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed.

Isaac just sighs. “You’re not going to go back to bed and I’m probably not going to fall asleep again. Common room?”

Stiles doesn’t say anything, but he slinks down the stairs after Isaac and into the nearly empty common room. Isaac shoos the Murder Twins back toward their respective dormitories as Stiles curls up in the corner of a couch. Isaac takes the other end, crossing his legs underneath him.

Stiles checks the time on the ornate clock that sits above the fireplace – just after two in the morning. That’s practically a record.

A couple portraits eye them warily and at least one harrumphs loudly at them.

“They probably shouldn’t learn magic,” Isaac says idly in reference to the boy and girl he just sent up to bed. “It’s like someone cracked open a book written thirty years ago and showed them a passage that said ‘This is what a Slytherin student looks like’ and then they ran with it.”

Stiles flails an arm out and says, “Right? Murder Twins.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow, “Have they usurped that title from Ethan and Aiden?”

“Aiden’s a Gryffindor with an extreme anger problem,” Stiles rolls his eyes. ‘Extreme’ is a complete oversimplification. “Seriously, I have no idea what’s in the water in the Gryffindor tower. There are some serious doom eyebrows up there.”

Isaac lets Stiles complain about their classmates until the clock ticks over into the morning and students begin trickling down from the dormitories.

Braeden takes one look at them and rolls her eyes. “How long how you two idiots been down here? You know what, I don’t care. Don’t be late for your classes.”

As she disappears out through the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Stiles whispers, “I still don’t understand how she’s Head Girl.”

Isaac laughs at him and then leaves him on the couch as he goes to get ready for the day.

Stiles watches him go up the stairs. As Malia bounds down from the girls’ dormitory, grin on her face, he thinks this year might not be as bad as he thought.

 

***

 

The school year passes in the same way it has in the past six years – with the leaves in the trees changing to deep yellows and reds and many, many essays. Aside from very minor explosions in the corner of the Slytherin common room the first years frequent, everything’s quiet.

Stiles appreciates it.

He leaves the greenhouses with a wave back to Professor Longbottom and Lydia and crosses the courtyard. He has Defense with Scott in fifteen minutes and like always, Stiles goes to pick him up from Potions.

The walk may be a little out of his way, but Professor Longbottom always lets them out of Herbology early if they get all their gardening done quickly. The hallways are mostly empty, save for the occasional students, and when Stiles makes it to the dungeons, Scott's class has already ended.

"I didn't know you were friends with Derek Hale," Stiles says as he reaches Scott. He watches Hale turn the corner and then switches his narrowed eyes toward the smile on Scott's face.

"Why are you eyes so squinty, dude? Did one of the plants try to pollinate you again?" Scott pockets his wand and then tugs his books free from the arm of the statue he'd awkwardly wedged them in.

"That happened once, Scott," Stiles hisses. "Answer my question."

"Did you ask me something?" Scott grins when Stiles flails his head in exasperation. "We're paired up in Potions, which is cool because I have no idea why I took this class."

"You need it if you want to be a healer," Stiles replies promptly. "And hey, you're not completely terrible at Potions."

Stiles scrunches his face at the end of his sentence and he reaches out awkwardly to pat Scott's shoulder. "You're _totally_ better than you used to be."

"Stop trying to encourage me, Stiles. You're as bad at being encouraging as I am at Potions."

Stiles runs a hand through his hair and breathes in noisily through his mouth. "Yeah, well, that's generally why I keep you around."

"Wow, thanks," Scott laughs.

Professor Harris stalks out of the classroom behind them and Stiles starts walking in the direction of their next class. Seriously, the less time spent around Harris, the better. Dude does not like him. Stiles is super glad he doesn’t need Potions this year.

“Do you have your essay for Defense?” Scott asks as he ambles behind Stiles.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I have no idea why Professor Argent has us writing essays in a seventh year Defense class.”

“Don’t let Argent hear you say that,” Scott says with wide eyes. “He’ll give us another essay to make a point, Stiles, and you know how much I hate that.”

“I still haven’t figured out why he has such a beef with you,” Stiles ponders. Then he wonders if it’s weird for Allison, having her dad teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’ll have to ask her the next time he sees her.

“I don’t know,” Scott moans as they file into the Defense classroom.

Stiles looks up at the balcony in the room and is mildly surprised that Professor Argent isn’t lurking up they like he usually is.

As if he’s been summoned, Argent comes out of his office as they sit down at a table behind Kira and Danny. Isaac slinks out of the office after him and sits at the empty table behind Scott and Stiles.

Stiles swivels in his chair and points at Argent with raised eyebrows. Isaac shoots him a look that clearly says, ‘Why are you so dumb, Stiles?’

Stiles supposes that’s a fair question. The Argents pretty much took in Isaac after his dad was taken in by Aurors for the double whammy of child abuse and dark magic. Isaac may not live with them during the summers anymore but Chris Argent is the closest thing Isaac has to a father figure.

Stiles raises his hands in front of his chest and spins back around.

The classroom starts to fill up with Slytherin and Hufflepuff students. Jordan Parrish drops into the seat next to Isaac and Braeden waltzes in pretty much at the last minute and steals a seat toward the front of the room. She knocks her elbow against Stiles’ head as she goes and smirks at him when he makes a noise of complaint.

Professor Argent starts the class by saying, “Keep your wands out. We’re going to be practicing the Conjunctivitis Curse and its counter-curse. If we’re lucky, none of you will have to go to the hospital wing this time...”

***

Because there’s such a small amount of seventh years who need Care of Magical Creatures, there were only two seventh year classes available to take. The classes aren’t even split by houses, like _every_ other class at Hogwarts, but by when a student’s other classes meet. Which is good, Stiles thinks, because he gets to take the class with Scott but bad because that means he also has to take it with Derek Hale.

Stiles casts a squinty eye over to where Scott talks animatedly with Derek. Stiles reaches down and slips a proprietary hand into Scott’s.  Scott squeezes his hand back like he always does, but continues his conversation without otherwise acknowledging that Stiles is there.

Derek flicks his gaze down to their joined hands and then up at Stiles’ face. Stiles shoots him a bland look.

And then he sneezes.

Stiles’ eyes go wide and his cheeks light up red.

Derek drawls out, “Bless you.”

Scott asks, “You’re not getting sick are you?”

It’s not even – it’s not even like this is a situation in which Stiles should feel mortified. People sneeze all the time! One time Stiles sneezed into a kiss with Scott. If there were ever a time to feel mortified over sneezing, it was that time – sneezing while getting sweet make outs. Stiles hadn’t even been mortified then. Scott has laughed at him and Stiles had been unrepentant.

Right now, Stiles is mortified.

Luckily, Luna – _Professor Lovegood_ , Stiles reminds himself – interrupts them. Stiles shakes his head at Scott and then gives his attention to her.

If he can still feel Derek’s eyes on the side of his head, well – they have class. Stiles doesn’t have time to be worried about what Derek thinks of him. Stiles just has to pass this class.

Luna waves both of her hands in the air gently to gain everyone’s attention and says, “Hello, everyone!”

Everyone dutifully murmurs back a greeting and Luna smiles. “I had planned for us to go to back into the forest to talk with the centaurs again, but unfortunately some of you have not been invited back.”

No one looks at Aiden, but Stiles knows it’s all his fault. Aiden is such a dick.

Luna claps her hands. “So, instead, we’re going to go to the Great Lake and explore. If we’re lucky, perhaps we’ll see the Giant Squid!”

Luna begins to walk in the direction of the lake and the class follows her. Stiles tugs Scott up to the front of the group, mildly annoyed that Derek keeps up with them.

“Now,” Luna says as they reach the shore of the lake, “if you encounter a grindylow, there is a jinx you can use to repel it. Can anyone tell me what that jinx is?”

“The Revulsion Jinx,” Stiles answers.

Luna smiles at him. “Yes, exactly! Someone else tell me what the incantation for the Revulsion Jinx is.”

“Relashio,” Derek says.

Stiles is mildly disappointed that Derek wasn’t holding his wand when he said the incantation, it would have been amusing to see him unintentionally cast the jinx. Stiles isn’t a nice person, he’s made peace with himself.

Derek’s wand, of course, sits in his front pocket, which Stiles does look at, not at all. Okay, maybe a little bit and whoa, is that his wand in his pocket, or – nope. Not going there.

Scott jabs an elbow into his side and Stiles resolutely looks back at Luna.

“Thank you, Mr. Hale,” she graces him with a smile too. “Now, I hope I don’t need to remind you to stay away from the selkies. They’ve graciously accepted our presence in and around the lake today, but they are not as kind as the centaurs and they will not hesitate to drag you to the deepest part of the lake and leave you there if you disturb them.”

Stiles shudders – the merpeople are something else. The less he has to see of them, the better. Stiles snorts as he realizes this means that Aiden is definitely going to run into one.

“You may use the boats if you are so inclined, but I suspect many of you will just wade around the edges of the shore. Your assignment is to find something living in the lake, interact with it a bit, and then write me a paper about it. I want to know everything you think is important about the creature. I think that three scrolls at the very least should do you well.”

There are a couple groans from the back of the group, but everyone disperses pretty quickly.

Stiles drags Scott over to the part of the lake that he knows the Giant Squid likes to frequent and starts to wade into the cold water. Before he gets too deep, he shucks off his robes and throws them to shore.

Scott shoots him a concerned look, but it’s – of course, it is – Derek who says, “If he’s getting sick, should he be getting into the water like that?”

Stiles snarls silently to himself because he knows Scott can’t see him and mutters under his breath, “What are you, my dad?”

Derek snorts like he heard Stiles and – well, shit, he probably did hear him, what with those werewolf-y ears of his. Stiles makes another nasty face that no one else can see and continues into the water.

Everything goes quiet for a few minutes – not completely silent, though. Stiles can hear their classmates splashing in and around the lake. Stiles peers out toward the center of the lake and he can see Danny and Jackson in one of the boats. Danny leans over the edge of it to stick his hands into the water.

Derek must have found something in the reeds, because Stiles can hear him gently pushing the reeds around. Good for him, Stiles thinks. It means Derek can stay one-hundred feet the fuck away from him. “Hey, Scott,” Derek calls. “Come check this out.”

Stiles spares them one baleful glance but turns back to the lake. He’s got bigger fish to catch – specifically one Giant Squid. Stiles doesn’t want to have to write a paper on a grindylow; it would be so boring.

Stiles drums his fingers against the surface of the lake. He stays quiet and focused so he doesn’t have to listen to stupid Derek Hale try to steal his boyfriend from him. In fact, he’s so quiet and focused that he doesn’t notice the tentacle creeping around behind him until it has him upside-down in the air by an ankle and by then it’s too late.

Stiles shrieks delightedly and shouts, “Scottie, look at this!”

Scott turns immediately at his shriek – as well as practically all of their classmates; Parrish looks like he’s turning green at the sight, ha – and swears. “Stiles, holy shit! Get down from there!”

Stiles scoffs. “Get down? Why would I ever do that? This is awesome!”

He reaches out at pats the tentacle next to him. “Bro,” Stiles says seriously to the Giant Squid, “you are great.”

Two things happen at once – Stiles hears Luna shout, “Trevor!” and watches her plant a kiss on the top of a toad’s head and Stiles finds out that Giant Squids are particularly ticklish when he runs his hand down the length of the tentacle. The Giant Squid proceeds to shudder and then unceremoniously drop Stiles into the Great Lake.

Hitting the cold water is so beyond unpleasant that Stiles doesn’t have words for it. It’s like that pins and needles feeling he gets sometimes when he sits in one position too long, but all over his body.

The Giant Squid is kind enough, or sentient enough, to grab Stiles around the middle and deposit him safely back on shore. Stiles heaves a bit when he hits dry land, trying to pull air into his lungs. Scott’s on him pretty much immediately, dragging him up into a sitting position. Scott thunks him on the back a couple of times. Stiles flails about a bit. It’s all very dramatic.

“Oh dear,” Luna says somewhere over Stiles’ head. “Are you alright, Grzegzor?”

Stiles stops flailing long enough to twist around and stare at Luna. “Just because you can pronounce my first name doesn’t mean you have to use it.”

Luna raises an eyebrow and Stiles coughs up some lake water. She’s sneaky in surprising ways.

“Why don’t you boys help him to the infirmary?” Luna says to Scott and Derek.

They both must nod, because Stiles gets someone on each side to pull him up. Stiles doesn’t even have it in him to complain about Derek helping him. He lets himself lean against Derek while Scott grabs his dry robes.

Derek’s big hand is a warm spot between his shoulder blades.

Stiles feels his teeth chatter.

Scott shoots him a worried look and takes up his spot at Stiles’ other side and together the three make the trek to the infirmary.

Stiles feels like the trip takes them forever. They’re at the Great Hall when Stiles sees the Murder Twins jeering at some of the other Slytherin first years. Stiles pulls away from Scott and Derek’s grip – he’s wet, not incapacitated – and veers toward the group.

Scott and Derek both protest, but Stiles’ focus narrows down to the gaggle of first years. Maybe it’s because he just got dumped into a frigid lake or maybe it’s something else – but Stiles is just done with the Murder Twins. He gets up between the group, using his body as a blockade, and hisses, “Are you kidding me? I’m am so _sick_ of you two.”

“ _They_ ,” Stiles gestures to the other Slytherin first years, “are in Slytherin too. You don’t actually get to treat your housemates like shit. No wonder nobody can stand you two,” and he knows it’s mean. Stiles goes right for the jugular, but he doesn’t particularly feel bad about it.

“They are going to be with you for the next six years of your life,” he snarls at them. “Cut. It. Out.”

The pair look at him and then scurry away, metaphorical tails tucked between their legs. Stiles glances at Scott and Scott looks conflicted, but Stiles can’t take the time to parse his expression. Derek looks at Stiles like this is the first time he’s ever seen him and Stiles doesn’t have time for that either.

Stiles turns back to the other first years, suddenly aware of the chill, and asks, “Are you alright?”

One of them – Stiles thinks her name might be Tara – nods and says, “Thanks, Stiles.” And then, “Wait, why are you soaking wet?”

Stiles nods sagely and then starts shaking his head. “That is a story for another time, my friend.”

He turns back to Scott and Derek. “I should probably actually go to the infirmary, shouldn’t I?”

Scott just nods helplessly. Derek says, “There’s no way he’s not getting sick.”

Stiles meanders his way back between the two of them and says, “Lead the way.”

As they start back toward the infirmary, Derek says, “At least Pomfrey can just give you Pepper Up and you’ll be good as new.”

Stiles pulls his mouth into an exaggerated frown and Scott shakes his head. “Oh no, he can’t have that.”

Derek quirks an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean,” Stiles says, “if I totally wanted to cook my insides, I could have a Pepper Up potion.”

“He’s allergic to it,” Scott clarifies.

“Technically, I’m allergic to bicorn horn.”

“If he’s really getting sick,” Scott says, a small grin tugging on his face, “he’s going to be sick for the long haul.”

Derek huffs a laugh, “That’s unfortunate for you.”

“Tell me about it,” Stiles groans, swaying into Derek’s side. Derek steadies him with a hand to the elbow. “I will also never be able to take a polyjuice potion, which is a tragedy because think of all the trouble I could get into with that.”

“It’s probably for the best, then,” Derek says. “Look how much trouble you’re able to get into on your own.”

Stiles thumps him with the back of his hand, but not too hard. “Be nice,” he says.

Madam Pomfrey interrupts them before Derek can reply, harrumphing loudly when she sees Stiles. She waves him in and says, “Well, come in, then. You two,” she gestures to Scott and Derek, “back to class.”

Scott darts in for a hug and by the time Stiles pulls back, Scott has wrapped his dry robes around his shoulders. “Feel better, dude.”

Derek echoes the sentiment and Stiles watches as he knocks elbows with Scott as they walk away.

“I swear, Mr. Stilinski, the day you graduate is the day I retire,” Madam Pomfrey says, breaking Stiles from his thoughts. “I have no idea how you’ve made it this far in life.”

***

 

Warmth spills through the Slytherin common room. There's a fire roaring in the hearth. Stiles thanks whoever lit it silently. He curls up at a table by himself and pulls out his battered copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. He pages through the book until he finds the section on dragons and starts to read. Luna – Professor Lovegood – told them earlier in the week that they'd be going over them and he’s sick so he can’t really do anything else.

Scott offered, earlier, to not go to Hogsmeade this weekend and stay behind with him, but Stiles insisted he go and have fun for the both of them. Stiles regrets it now, especially since he saw Scott walking down the path toward Hogsmeade with one Derek Hale.

He makes it all the way to the section of Norwegian Ridgebacks when someone loudly clunks their books down on the table in front of him. Stiles looks up with a grimace and sees that it's one of the Murder Twins. "Can I help you," he says without inflection.

Murder Twin smirks and says, "Violet."

Stiles stares down at the table and then his gaze darts up to her and out into the surprisingly empty common room. "Green," he finally says, voice thick.

"No, my name is Violet," she reminds him. He doesn’t trust her, but she’s only a first year, so Stiles supposed that may not be fair. It’s not like she knows enough magic yet to be a problem – a minor annoyance, sure, but nothing Stiles can’t handle.

"Okay," Stiles drawls. "What do you want, _Violet_?"

She pushes one of her textbooks into the free space on the table between them and points to a passage. Violet says, "Will you help me learn the fire-making spell?"

Stiles narrows his eyes at her. He pops the ‘p’ when he drawls, “Nope.”

Violet’s mouth turns down into a pout. “Why not?”

Stiles huffs and wishes all of his friends weren’t in Hogsmeade. He hopes Scott will bring him back something good, like candy or something that explodes. Ooh, or candy that explodes, that would be awesome.

Violet waits. After a few moments, she clears her throat.

It’s clear she isn’t going to leave without an answer, Stiles says, “Look, usually I would be all for encouraging first years to do their best and whatever,” he waves his hand haphazardly in the air. “Succeed.”

From her expression, she isn’t buying any of what Stiles is selling. He continues on before she can interrupt, “But I’m pretty sure you’re not there yet in your class. I’m not a professor, I’m sick, and I can never get a good read on you or the other one.”

“Garrett?” She asks.

“Sure,” Stiles says flippantly, because he’s not sure of the other one’s name either. He hasn’t made that great of an effort to learn most of the new first year’s names. Braeden gets on to him about it, but Stiles just doesn’t care enough. He’s going to be gone next year anyway. He doesn’t even really like the Murder Twins anyway.

He’s not Scott; he can’t just adopt strays.

“Look,” he says. “Why do you want to learn it anyway?”

A look of pure misery flashes over her face before she can tamp it down and school her face into a neutral expression. She shrugs and looks down at her hands in her lap.

Oh Merlin, Stiles thinks. He is so unprepared for whatever this is going to turn out to be, he can already tell. He reaches down deep inside of himself and pulls out that little piece that channels Scott, because he knows he’s going to need it.

He gives her what he hopes is an encouraging smile. Scott was right, though: Stiles is terrible at encouraging people.

Violet doesn’t seem to notice. She says, “It isn’t like what I thought it was going to be. Here, I mean.”

“What, Hogwarts?” At her head shake, he says, “You mean, in Slytherin.”

She nods.

Stiles slides his book to the side and then pushes hers out of the way. “I call you and Garrett the Murder Twins.”

Violet huffs a wet sounding laugh and says, “I’ve heard.”

Stiles spares half a second to feel bad about that before he continues on. “You’re trying too hard to be ‘Slytherin’. Whatever line you’ve been fed about what makes an ideal Slytherin – forget about it. It’s not true. We aren’t bad people.”

Violet wipes the back of her hand across her eyes and coughs once. “You’re kind of mean,” she says.

Stiles scrutinizes her for one long moment and then says, “To quote my boy Scott, here are some words you will never hear from me again: just be yourself. It’s going to be hard, especially after the way you’ve treated some of your fellow first years, but keep at it. And sure, I’m not a nice person, but the difference between you and me is that I have friends and all you have is the other Murder Twin.”

Violet stares at him. “Fine,” she says. “I guess I can try harder.”

Stiles nods decisively. “If you actually do try and aren’t just saying that to get me to shut up, then I’ll try to help you out with it a little bit.”

“Thanks you,” Violet says. She pushes a lock of curly hair behind her ear and then starts to gather her school books.

“Whoa, where are you going, Murder Twin?” Stiles grins. “We got some wand work to practice.”

He pulls out his wand and says, “ _Accio_ candle,” while he waits for Violet to catch up and pull her wand out too.

The candle lands on the floor near his feet because his life is a farce and he’s never really had good aim and he reaches down to grab it so he can place it at the end of the table. He shows her the correct wrist movement and how to pronounce _Incendio_ the right way.

When Stiles is ready for her to try, he says, “Okay, please don’t burn my eyebrows off, I’m rather attached to them.”

Violet never manages anything much more than a spark at the tip of her wand, but by the time she leaves there’s a spring in her step that wasn’t there before.

He watches her go up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory and reaches for his book. Before he can grab it, two strong hands come down on his shoulders. When he looks up, it’s Braeden and she’s grinning at him. “I saw what you did for her, Stilinski. Scott’s really rubbing off on you, huh?”

Stiles leers up at her and says, “You’re right, he is.”

She rolls her eyes at him. Her grip loosens a bit and she says, “You’ve gone soft.”

Stiles hears the ‘thank-you’ there anyway and doesn’t even make the dirty joke she’s set up for him.

***

  
Scott still isn’t back from Hogsmeade.

Stiles is officially bored. He doesn’t want to read about dragons anymore and he doesn’t want to be accosted by wayward first years, but Scott isn’t back yet and – _achoo!_

Stiles reaches for a tissue and wipes his nose. He’s also officially over being sick.

Stiles puts up his stuff and then slinks out of the Slytherin common room. If he can’t have Scott at this exact moment that Stiles wants him, then Stiles will go to the next best place.

Scott doesn’t know that he does this – and Stiles is not particularly inclined to tell Scott that he does it – but when Scott isn’t thinking about anything in particular, he’ll tap the Hufflepuff common room password against whatever part of Stiles he’s currently touching.

Stiles heads to the Hufflepuff common room.

He gets in with minimal effort – a beat or two off the first time he tries, but Stiles gets it quickly enough. Stiles pretty much has zero rhythm, but he has a will and he usually finds a way.

The Hufflepuff common room is empty, which is a surprise, and the complete opposite of the Slytherin common room, which is not. Stiles is pretty familiar with all the assorted pillows and cushions that make up the cozy common room.

Stiles dives onto a couch and makes himself at home and tells himself he’s going to wait for Scott.

Stiles falls asleep in less than thirty seconds.

Stiles wakes up slowly but doesn’t bother opening his eyes. Someone is talking and it’s bugging the crap out of him.

“I don’t understand how you keep getting in here,” someone whispers furiously. “ _I_ can’t even get in here half the time and I’m actually in Hufflepuff!”

Stiles levers open one eye and glares at Liam. “Go away, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Go back to your own house!” Liam screeches.

“No,” Stiles says as he closes his eyes.

“Yes!” Liam says back. “Shoo!”

“That’s not very nice,” Stiles drawls. “Is Scott back yet?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Liam says, sounding like he wishes Scott were here to deal with Stiles. “Will you please leave?”

“Negative,” Stiles says, smirking as he feigns sleep. “I’m waiting for Scott.”

Liam huffs and stomps off to do whatever annoyed Hufflepuff first years do and Stiles stretches out on the couch. He sticks an extra cushion under his head and settles in for the long haul.

Turns out he doesn’t have to wait that long, because almost as soon as Stiles puts his head down, he hears Scott bounding into the common room. Scott’s talking to someone, but Stiles can’t see the door so he just sticks his hands up and waves them a bit.

Scott leans over the back of the couch and grins. “How do you keep getting in here?”

Stiles shrugs and smirks. “Gotta have secrets, bro.”

Stiles coughs once, which sets him off into a coughing fit and when he looks back up, Scott has that concerned look on his face. He crawls over the back of the couch and rubs his hand along Stiles’ back as he continues to cough. “You okay?”

“Could be better,” Stiles says.

Scott wedges himself into the corner of the couch and pulls Stiles against him. He asks, very seriously, “Cuddles?”

“Heck yes,” Stiles crows and snuggles closer. “Who were you just talking to?”

Scott clears his throat. “I brought Derek with me. We were going to come find you after, but here you are!”

Before Stiles can protest, a cup of tea appears below his nose. He scoops it up with both hands and then peers up at Derek.

Derek says, “Scott said you take it with cream?”

“You can stay,” Stiles allows.

“Scoot over,” Derek says.

Stiles lifts his legs and then puts them into Derek’s lap when he sits down. Derek raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sick,” Stiles says. He punctuates his statement with a sneeze. He manages not to spill his tea, which he is sure everyone is thankful for. “What did you do in Hogsmeade? What did you bring me?”

Scott lights up and says, “This exploding candy, I think you’re really going to like it!”

“Scott,” Stiles says, “have I ever told you how much I love you?”

***

"I can't believe this is happening," Stiles says when he sits down in the stands next to Isaac. "This is a betrayal of the highest order, man."

Isaac shrugs, the bulky red and gold Gryffindor scarf around his neck going with the motion of his shoulders. "Erica's my girl, Stiles. Boyd's wearing one too."

Boyd really is, too.

"Boyd's _house_ isn't playing against Gryffindor, Lahey," Stiles says, frowning.

"You don't even like Quidditch," Isaac says.

"I totally do," Stiles insists, even though it’s a blatant lie. "I just don't enjoy actually being on a broom. My feet were meant to stay on solid ground, or did you forget first year flying lessons completely? That must be nice, seeing as I will never live that hour and a half of my life down."

Isaac snickers and even Boyd's face brightens a bit.

"It was pretty amusing," Boyd offers, "especially when you had to be levitated down from that tree."

Stiles scowls. "It was pretty amusing," he mocks, pitching his voice higher like a child. "You both are bad friends."

"Are you sure this isn't about a certain someone?" Isaac asks.

Stiles doesn't deign to give him an answer, just lifts his chin and spins forward in his seat. He looks over the crowd at the bottom of the stands, searching for that familiar flop of hair.

Stiles sees Scott soon enough and waves obnoxiously until Scott spots him. Scott grins and waves back, hustling through the crowd to join them. Danny and Liam follow behind him at a more sedate pace.

Danny also wears a Gryffindor scarf – Jackson's – but he has Malia's Slytherin tie knotted around his wrist like an arm band too.

Scott slides onto the bench next to Stiles and asks, "Did you bring it?"

Stiles nods and watches as Scott unwinds his yellow and black scarf from his neck. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his spare scarf and switches with Scott. "I'm not giving this back," he tells Scott, shoving Scott’s scarf into his pocket.

Scott grins at him. "S'cool."

Stiles leans over to kiss Scott. He sees the flash of red and gold in Scott's pocket and he snatches it as he pulls back. It's a tie – it's a Gryffindor tie.

He glares down at the tie and then looks up at Scott. Scott tries to take it back, but Stiles keeps it out of his reach. "Derek gave this to you, didn’t he?"

Scott's mouth pulls down into a frown.

"We should probably just move and go sit in Gryffindor's section, shouldn't we?" Stiles says meanly.

Scott grabs the tie back and sits with it curled around his fists in his lap. "I talked to Derek before I came over here. He gave it to me then. Is there a problem?"

Stiles swallows. He could drag this out, make it hurt. Derek is a sore spot. Stiles could do it – he knows just what to say, what to imply – but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to see the look it would put on Scott's face.

Stiles doesn't want to hurt Scott – not on purpose, not with intent – but the words slip out before he can stop them. His voice raises as he says, “Yeah, you know what? I would never have added someone to our relationship without asking you first.”

Even as he says the words, he knows that’s not what Scott has been doing with Derek. If Stiles really had an objection to adding Derek into what they have, Scott wouldn’t be putting out feelers. Stiles knows that he’s Scott’s number one priority, but like always, Stiles’ mouth lashes out before his brain can catch up.

Scott stares at him. Eventually, he says, "I'm gonna go and when you've decided you want to be less of a jackass, you can come find me."

Stiles slumps. He doesn't want to fight with Scott. He _hates_ fighting with Scott. On his list of things Stiles hates to do, fighting with Scott is number one.

"Wait!" Stiles jumps up after Scott. “Scott, stop, I’m sorry!”

Scott ignores him, thundering down the stairs. Stiles runs after him. He catches Scott before he can leave the stadium, but Scott pulls his arm out of Stiles' grip.

"I don't understand what your problem is," Scott says. "I think Derek could be a good fit for us. I was stupid enough to think all three of us were finally getting somewhere, but you, Stiles – you won't even give him a chance."

Stiles bites his lip. He scrubs his hands across his face and then says, "Give me the tie, Scott."

Scott shakes his head and takes a step back.

Stiles makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and says, "Just trust me, Scottie."

Scott gives him a look but eventually hands over the tie.

Stiles holds the tie gently in two hands and says, “I’m sorry. I will try to make more of an effort.”

He scoots closer to Scott and holds both ends of the tie up so he can tie it around Scott’s head. The ends flutter down behind him. Stiles thumbs the side of Scott’s forehead, up and over the stripes of the tie.

“You’re a dick,” Scott says, but he says it fondly.

Stiles crooks a smile and says, “Yeah, but I’m your dick.”

Scott smirks and hooks his fingers into Stiles’ waistband, tugs until it pulls away from his stomach and says, “Yeah, it is.”

A cough interrupts them before Stiles can get lucky underneath the stands. Stiles pats Scott on the chest and turns to see Liam standing awkwardly behind them. “Liam,” he says.

“Yeah, uh, like I’m super happy that you two have made up or whatever, but Danny sent me to get you two because the game is starting and I really don’t want to see whatever was about to happen here.”

“Great,” Stiles says sarcastically, and then more sincerely says, “No, wait, yeah, I totally don’t want to do that in front of you either.”

Liam nods carefully before turning and walking away.

Stiles looks back at Scott and says, “It’s like doing it in front of your pet or something, just weird.”

“Yeah, ‘cause _that’s_ what’s weird here, Stiles,” Scott says. He throws Stiles a wink and they walk up the stairs hand in hand.

 

***

 

Effort – Stiles promised Scott he would make more of an effort to get to know Derek and this is Stiles, trying to make an effort. His effort-making is not going how he envisioned it, but Stiles presses on. “So,” he says, staring across the table at Derek. “Have you kissed my boyfriend yet?”

Derek stares right back, mouth curved into an incredulous smile. “No, uh, I haven’t.”

Stiles can feel Lydia staring at him, so he flaps a hand in her direction and says, “Go away.”

Lydia laughs outright at him, but turns back to her conversation with Kira and Allison.

“Scott,” Stiles starts, attention back on Derek, “is an awesome kisser.”

“I’m sure he is,” Derek agrees.

He quirks an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles raises both of his in response and purses his lips.

“This is like watching first years try to hex each other,” Malia whispers to Danny and Jackson.

Jackson rolls his eyes, “At least that would be entertaining.”

“No,” Danny says, “this is like watching two first years who don’t realize they can hex each other fight.”

It is possible Stiles did not think this through when he decided on having this chat at the Gryffindor table. And man, Danny can be harsh, Merlin.

Stiles gets up and moves three seats down. He gestures with his head for Derek follow. Derek does so with minimal fussing, although he does huff a laugh. “You’re something else,” he says.

“So I’ve been told.” Stiles folds his hands on the table in front of him. “What are your intentions with Scott?”

“You’re adorable,” Derek says instead.

This throws Stiles. He cocks his head back and stares at Derek through narrowed eyes. He knows Derek is attracted to Scott. Stiles starts to feel like maybe Derek is also attracted to him too. This is unexpected. Stiles frowns and says, “Explain.”

“You must really care about Scott,” Derek says and Stiles has to keep from rolling his eyes. Of course he cares about Scott – he straight up loves Scott, okay, that’s not the issue. “Scott’s kind and hilarious and you’re really lucky, okay?”

Derek apparently gestures with his hands when he talks and Stiles doesn’t want to say it’s cute but – it’s pretty cute. Dang.

“I am lucky,” Stiles allows. “And you apparently want to get lucky with my boo.”

“I don’t want –” Derek grimaces, and wow, he’s apparently a little old man, what, “I’d like to date Scott.”

There it is, all out in the open, and it sits heavily in Stiles’ stomach. Derek is Heather all over again, Heather who wanted to date Scott but couldn’t get into Stiles’ particular brand of love – the snarky, asshole-y love that only Stiles can offer. Stiles frowns and moves to get up because he doesn’t want to hear anymore of this, but Derek stops him with a hand to his wrist.

“Let me finish,” Derek says earnestly. “I want to get to know you, Stiles. Scott obviously thinks you’ve hung the moon and I want to know the Stiles he knows.”

Stiles slips his hand out from under Derek’s but doesn’t move away. He stares at Derek with a furrowed brow.

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re hot,” Derek says with a grin.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees breathlessly before realizing what he’s agreeing to and saying, “Wait, what?”

Derek laughs and looks down at the table. His eyes flick up to catch Stiles’ gaze and _ugh_ – “Fine,” Stiles says.

“What?” Derek asks, looking surprised, looking like he didn’t expect that to work.

“You may attempt to get to know me,” Stiles offers graciously. “But I make no promises.”

“Okay,” Derek says and he’s got this hopeful expression on his face and seriously. Ugh. Stiles will probably regret this.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Jackson sneers. “You two are so pathetic.”

Derek turns Jackson’s pumpkin juice into a rat.

Derek can’t be too bad, Stiles supposes. He could be worse. It helps, too, that Derek is also ridiculously attractive.

***

 

Stiles yawns and stretches his arms up over his head. When he opens his eyes and looks out one of the windows in the library, he realizes it's quite a bit darker outside than it was when he first sat down. He looks down at what he's written about dragons on his scroll and decides a page and a half is as good a stopping point as any. He rolls the scroll up and sticks it in his bag before abandoning his table.

He thinks he hears his name as he leaves the library, but when he looks up he doesn't see anyone he recognizes. He chalks it up to too much studying and starts the trek back down to the dungeons.

It takes him three more times of thinking he's heard his name before he realizes that he has – Stiles catches his name falling out of people's mouths as he walks down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room. It puts him on edge. He's kept his nose clean this week and hasn't done anything in the last twenty-four hours to warrant his name being where it is.

Stiles remembers the end of last year. By that point, he was firmly ensconced in the Eichen Ward at St. Mungo's, but Malia visited once and told him about how she'd gotten detention after hexing someone who talked bad about him at school. Stiles thinks dealing with the gossipy types was easier when he didn't have to know they were talking about him.

Stiles had been big news right after the attack.

What really bothers Stiles, when he really starts trying to listen in, is the tone of voice everyone takes when they talk about him – how horrified they sound, how _sorry_. Stiles doesn't like it. He starts walking closer to a couple of girls who don't notice him behind them and tries to make out what they're saying.

One of them whispers, "I don't think anyone's told him yet, though."

The other says, “I only found out because I was in Defense when Professor Argent got the news.”

Stiles thinks her name might be Marie. He doesn't really care. He wants to know what they know, though. He slows his speed down when they slow theirs and that's when he hears, "I just can't believe she escaped from Azkaban. I mean, who does that?"

Stiles manages to make it around a corner and into a deserted corridor before his breath starts coming out in harsh pants. It only takes moments for all the air to leave his lungs and he sags back against the wall, feet scrabbling against the floor as he sinks all the way down.

Stiles thinks he might be attracting a crowd, but he's having a really hard time paying attention to anything that isn't the news that Kate Argent isn't rotting away in her cell in the Wizarding World's most heavily guarded prison.

Vaguely, he hears someone shout, "Get back, get _back_!"

Stiles feels the blood pumping through his chest. This can't be happening – how does someone even escape from Azkaban? The Ministry cracked down on the already tight security after the war had been won; he doesn't understand how she’s just gone.

He remembers the pain – can feel it as if it were happening to him again – and how it spread through his whole body. He remembers how it poured through him and gripped his chest tight, how he writhed on the ground and tried to reach for Nona.

Hands grip at his upper arms. Stiles wonders very briefly why the hands are shaking him – up until he realizes the hands aren't shaking him, _Stiles_ is the one who is shaking. Someone says his name sharply, but Stiles can't respond to because all at once the most horrible thought occurs to Stiles. He clutches back at the person holding him and frantically says, "Nona! Is my mom okay?"

"Stiles," the person says, and then – "Get back! Someone find Scott McCall, or a professor – just someone, _go_! Stiles. Stiles, come on."

Stiles looks down at the hands wrapped around his biceps and realizes at the very least that it's a guy holding onto him. But this guy isn't Scott, and Stiles isn't sure why he's touching him.

"Hey," the guy shifts his grip, gets a hand around Stiles' and brings it up to a firm chest. "Stiles, breathe with me."

Stiles tries to focus on the way the chest under his palm rises and falls in slow, even breaths. He tries to slow his breathing to match, but it's difficult to do when every other breath he takes is punctuated by a hiccuping sob.

It takes Stiles a moment, but he finally gets there. When he looks up at the person who's helped him, he realizes it's Derek Hale.

And doesn't that take the cake, he thinks, curling in on himself, trying to get away from Derek's hands. Derek has the good sense to pull back before Stiles can devolve into another panic attack and the grace not to say anything to Stiles about it.

Stiles can hear feet pounding on the stone ground and he looks up just in time for Scott to barrel into him. Stiles thinks, hysterically, as his back hits the ground that he didn’t even get a chance to thank him.

***

Stiles doesn't have to argue much to convince Headmaster Deaton to agree that he should go visit his mother, especially in light of recent events. He arranges for Stiles to meet his dad in Hogsmeade the very next day.

Stiles wishes he could be surprised when he sees that Professor Longbottom is the one to meet him at the entrance of Hogwarts.

He sends a soft smile Stiles' way and says, "Are you ready to go?"

Stiles manages a nod but not much more. He wishes Scott could come with him. Hell, he wishes _Derek_ was here. He doesn't want to have to do this alone.

Professor Longbottom puts his hand on Stiles' shoulder and steers him toward the path that will take them to Hogsmeade. Stiles wonders why they aren't taking a carriage.

Before he can ask, Professor Longbottom says, "I figured it would be rude to make the thestrals come out of the forest when there's only the two of us. And I wanted to talk to you before you go. I know you must be worried."

"That's, uh, that's kind of an understatement," Stiles manages to say.

Professor Longbottom huffs a laugh and looks down at his feet. "Yeah, I imagine it is."

Stiles looks out into the woods surrounding the path. "So, uh. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I wanted to make sure you know that we aren't going to let anyone hurt you again. Me and your Aunt Luna especially, but the rest of the professors too." Professor Longbottom stares off into the distance. "I won't condescend to you and tell you that Hogwarts has always been in safe hands, but it is now."

Stiles thinks back to last spring. Where were those safe hands when he needed them the most? The thought makes him angry – where was everyone when Stiles and Nona were pulled from the celebration and dragged from castle and tortured on Hogwarts grounds – on the front _fucking_ lawn?

Stiles doesn't realize he's shaking until Professor Longbottom rests a hand on his shoulder again. Professor Longbottom clucks his tongue at him and Stiles finds himself soothed before he realizes he should still be angry. All the fight falls out of him.

For one long, strange moment, Stiles feels jealous that the Gryffindors get Professor Longbottom as their head of house.

"I think," Professor Longbottom starts, "I think, better than anyone in that castle, I know how you're feeling."

Stiles nods miserably. What happened to Professor Longbottom’s parents – it’s common knowledge now, how Bellatrix Lestrange tortured them for hours for simply being on the right side of the war.

“Does it ever get -” Stiles chokes. “Does it – does it ever stop hurting so much?”

Professor Longbottom hums under his breath. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. But the pain gets easier to carry. You have to remember that she loves you. She was there that night because she loved you and she protected you because she loves you. Magic loves a family bond, you know.”

Stiles looks surprised when he looks up and realizes they’ve reached Hogsmeade. His dad waits patiently by the empty train station and crooks a sad smile when he sees Stiles watching him.

“Professor, hey,” Stiles says.

“Yes, Stiles?”

“Thank you,” he says firmly.

“Of course,” Professor Longbottom replies. “Oh, and before I forget – I’m always forgetting things, drat – when you get back, you’ll have something to look forward too, I suppose.”

“What’s that?”

“I owled Harry and he’s going to come to a couple six and seventh year Defense classes.”

It takes a second for the name to click – seriously, who just talks about _Harry Potter_ like it’s no big deal? Well, Stiles supposes, Professor Longbottom does – and when it does, a faint grin crosses his face. “Seriously?”

Professor Longbottom nods and laughs a bit. “Knowing him, he’ll probably stay for all the Defense classes, but what can you do?”

“Scott is going to flip,” Stiles breathes.

“Yes, well,” Professor Longbottom says, “I imagine he won’t be the only one.”

Professor Longbottom stops walking when they make it to his dad. His dad pulls Stiles into a hug and Stiles watches over his shoulder as Professor Longbottom turns and walks back toward the castle.

“You ready to go?” His dad asks as he pulls back.

Stiles nods and holds onto his dad’s arm as they apparate to St. Mungo’s.

***

St. Mungo's tries to exude this aura of calm but Stiles thinks it feels the same as any muggle hospital. The building smells clean and all the surfaces are shiny, like someone just cast a scourgify charm.

Stiles stays two paces behind his dad until they get to the lift. He doesn't want his dad to see how nervous this place makes him, but he's sure his dad already knows. Stiles has never been able to slip anything by his dad.

They exit the lift and pass the wing Stiles spent two long months in during the spring and Stiles tries not to shudder. He doesn’t have any good memories of his time spent in Eichen Ward. His dad reaches back and slips a comforting arm around his shoulders, slowing down so Stiles can catch up to him. Stiles leans into him as they hurry past.

Nona's room sits at the back of the floor so it's a longer trek than Stiles would prefer. He doesn't want to be in the hospital longer than he has to, but he desperately wants to see Nona and he knows his dad feels the same. Stiles wonders if she'll recognize him today; he hopes so.

He wonders if she knows that Kate Argent is free.

John stops at the front of the ward for long-term patients and flags down a mediwitch. The mediwitch turns out to be Melissa McCall. She comes around the counter to give Stiles a hug and he returns it gratefully.

"You're in luck," Melissa says, smoothing a palm up and down Stiles' back. "Antonia's been pretty lucid all afternoon. She'll be so happy to see you."

Stiles grips Melissa a little bit tighter before he lets her go.

John looks relieved. "You ready, son?"

Stiles nods and they head back to Nona's room. John knocks on the door lightly and a soft voice calls out, "Come in!"

They shuffle in the room and Nona smiles widely when she sees them. She sits on the edge of her bed, feet dangling off the side and she leans into John when he presses a kiss to her hairline.

"My love," she murmurs.

John sits in a chair next to her bed and Antonia beckons Stiles closer. "Let me look at you."

Stiles smiles and lets her take his hands in hers. "You've let your hair grow since the last time I saw you."

That's – that's not technically true, because the last time Stiles came to see her she didn't recognize him at all. The time she's thinking of was the time before, but Stiles nods anyway and says, "Yeah, I thought it was time for a change, Nona. Do you like it?"

"Sit," she says as she pats the bed next to her. He does, gingerly, and she loops her arm in his. She tucks her head against his shoulder. "My beautiful boy," she says. "You look just like Claudia."

Stiles dips his head against Nona's and doesn't think about his mom.

"How are you doing?" John asks.

Nona smiles and says, "Good! There's a new mediwitch, though, and I don't like her one bit. She smells funny. But enough about me! How are you doing, Stiles? How is school?”

“It’s good,” Stiles says. “Luna’s teaching Care of Magical Creatures this year, did you know? I had a run in with the Giant Squid, that was pretty exciting. Turns out he’s really ticklish.”

Nona grins and her laugh sounds like the tinkling of a bell.

“What about Scott? Have you two met anyone new?” Nona pulls a ribbon out from under her pillow and pulls her long dark hair out of her face and into a messy bun.

Stiles bites his lip and looks at his dad from the corner of his eye. He hasn’t mentioned to his dad that he and Scott have been spending more time with Derek, but he only gets to see his Nona once every couple of months, especially with school. Stiles can’t very well keep anything from her. He doesn’t want to do it.

“Maybe? We’re talking to someone. I don’t want to rush into anything, though.” Stiles rubs a hand across his face. “Scott says I’m being stubborn, but I’m –”

He cuts off, because he doesn’t want to admit what he’s feeling. If there’s one thing that Stiles excels at, it’s lying to himself.

This time, Stiles doesn’t have to be the one to admit anything.

“You’re scared, baby,” Nona says quietly. She shifts her head off of his shoulder and pulls him toward her. “ _Ay mi amor, ven aqui._ ”

Stiles takes the invitation and curls his body around so his knees are resting lightly on her thigh and his nose is pressed against her collarbone. This would work better if he weren’t so tall – if he were still a kid – but Nona curls an arm around the back of his neck anyway and tugs him closer. She murmurs words into his ear, a comforting blend of languages, “Breathe, baby. _Respira profundo_.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in her flowery perfume.

“It’s okay to be scared, Grzezgor, but don’t let your fear keep you from living. Don’t let it keep you from being happy.”

Stiles hears his dad get up from his chair and close the space between them. His dad’s hand rests heavy on his shoulder and it’s comforting, the way his dad has always been.

“Who is it, Stiles?” He murmurs.

Stiles stays quiet, mulling over Nona’s words. He clears his throat once and then says, “Derek Hale.”

Nona tenses immediately. Stiles can feel the way her entire body goes rigid.

She mutters, “Hale. Hale, Hale, Hale – what am I forgetting? John, I’m forgetting something. _What_ am I forgetting?”

John pulls Stiles back with the hand on his shoulder. “Antonia?”

Nona stares down at the floor. Stiles watches her eyes go sharp, even as they flit around the room, one hand going up to clutch at her forehead. “The new mediwitch, she smells funny.”

John leans down at cups a hand around the back of Nona’s head, “What do you mean?”

All at once, Stiles unequivocally loves his dad. Anybody else would be calling for a mediwitch but his dad takes Nona seriously, and Stiles gets the feeling they’re going to want to hear what Nona pieces together. He knows it, more than he’s ever known anything in his life.

Nona’s left hand writhes in her lap like she’s trying to write something down and Stiles calls out urgently, “Dad, paper!”

John pulls out his wand and transfigures the cup next to her bed into a piece of paper and an errant flower into a pencil. Antonia snatches them from his hands and starts scribbling. The point of the pencil breaks and she spits out, “ _Maldita sea_!”

She mutters something under her breath and Stiles watches, amazed, as the pencil sharpens itself. Stiles knows for a fact that her wand is locked away in their vault at Gringotts, because patients in this ward aren’t allowed to keep theirs – in case they try to hurt themselves or others. It’s not like he didn’t know Nona was particularly talented when it came to magic, but it’s another thing entirely to see her do wandless magic in person.

Nona scribbles something down on the paper and then thrusts it out to John. Stiles leans forward so that he can read her shaky handwriting.

> _The new mediwitch is Kate Argent._  

John’s mouth straightens into a line and he nods. “I’m going to talk to Melissa,” he says  he says normally, nodding seriously at Antonia and Stiles. “Stay here, Stiles.”

Stiles nods and stays quiet. Nona reaches out and grips Stiles’ wrist, squeezing tightly.

She pulls him in and tells him _everything_.

 

***

Scott intercepts Stiles right as he gets back to Hogwarts. Stiles can see Derek trailing behind Scott hesitantly. Stiles would put up more of a fight at Derek being there, but Derek needs to know too. This doesn't just affect Stiles anymore.

And if Derek has to find out at all, Stiles wants to be the one to tell him. Derek deserves that, at the very least.

"How's your other-mother?" Scott says, pressing the question into Stiles' shoulder.

"She's, uh," Stiles mutters, leaning into the hug more. "She's alright."

"How are you?" Scott asks next.

"Not so good, Scottie," Stiles says. He locks eyes with Derek over Scott's shoulder. "I need to talk to Derek."

Scott pulls back and searches Stiles' eyes. "Yeah, man, whatever you need. You want me there?"

"Of course I do," Stiles scoffs. "But we need to go to Deaton's office."

Derek's eyebrows furrow, but he nods once to show that he's coming.

Stiles stays quiet on the trip up to Headmaster Deaton's office. He seems to expect them because the gargoyle statue curls around and opens before they can even say the password. Stiles goes up the staircase first, trusting that Scott and Derek will follow.

When Stiles makes it to the office, he sees Deaton sitting behind his desk. The Headmasters who came before him are all present in their portraits. Dumbledore, in particular, seems to be paying the most attention. Stiles doesn't know how he feels about that.

"Mr. Stilinski," Deaton greets. "Mr. McCall, Mr. Hale. It came to my attention that you needed to speak with me."

When Dumbledore's eyes sparkle, Stiles stops looking.

Deaton flicks his wand. "The door is locked. I expect that we won't be interrupted."

Scott sits in one of the vacant seats and Stiles flanks the chair. He gestures for Derek to sit down. Stiles won't be able to sit still for this.

When everyone goes silent and looks to him, Stiles licks his lips and starts, "Where –" He stops. He shoves his wand into his pocket and tries to take a page from Scott's book, because he's sure he's not going to get anything if he rushes into this. "Derek, do you know where your uncle is?"

Derek looks confused. "I haven't heard from Peter lately. And, to be honest, I'm not really bothered by it."

"Well, maybe you should be," Stiles says, voice tight.

Derek makes like he's going to stand up and Stiles tries not to flinch. He's not one-hundred percent sure that he manages to suppress it, especially if the look on Derek's face is anything to go by. Derek settles back in his chair.

"What are you talking about?" Derek says.

Deaton coughs lightly in his throat. "Mr. Stilinski, if you could start at the beginning, please?"

Stiles runs his hands through his hair and paces behind Scott's chair. It takes him a moment to get his thoughts into any sort of order whatsoever. "We went to see Nona today, obviously. And we got there and things were fine, good even. We were talking about school and, and – we’re were talking and she kept saying that her new mediwitch smelled funny."

One of his hands clasps loosely around his free wrist, where Nona gripped him tight.

"She knows who the other person who attacked us was."

Deaton stands up from behind his desk and steps closer. "Are you certain?"

Stiles nods frantically. "Kate Argent and the other person who attacked us," Stiles swallows. "They were banking on the assumption that Nona would be so – so beyond screwed up by the torture that she wouldn't remember who attacked us. I never saw the man who hurt me. I just saw his shoes."

“Stiles, what are you saying?” Deaton asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“My dad found the mediwitch and arrested her. When the polyjuice potion wore off, it was Kate Argent, like Nona said she would be. While he did that, Nona told me the name of the man who attacked us – Peter Hale.”

Scott gazes up at him, eyes sharp. Derek looks between Scott and Stiles. Stiles watches as all the blood drains from Derek's face. Derek doesn't even offer a protest – Stiles wonders what that means about their lives, what that means about what Derek had to grow up with that he doesn't even offer an argument.

Derek sinks down deeper into his chair and puts his hands over his face. "Oh, God," Derek says.

Scott asks, "Are you sure?"

Stiles glances at Scott and nods. "I wanted you to hear it from me," Stiles says to Derek, voice hoarse. "I wanted you to hear it from me so you don't blame yourself, or whatever other dumb thing you'll try to do."

"How did I miss something like this, _fuck_ ," Derek swears.

"How can you even look at me?" Derek says as he tries to pull away from Stiles' grip. "My family – we're cursed."

Scott asks Deaton if they can have a little bit of privacy and Stiles is a little surprised when Deaton agrees and disappears into a back room. Scott comes in on Derek's other side and Stiles doesn't let Derek shake him off.

Scott wraps a hand around the back of Derek's neck like he does for Stiles. Stiles doesn't feel jealous like he thought he would. Stiles sits down on the arm of Derek's chair, but he doesn't know how to comfort Derek. He wants to press his forehead against Derek's, but he doesn't think that would be well-received.

"Why?" Derek asks. "Why would he do that to you?"

Stiles knows the answer to that, too, but he doesn't want to tell Derek. The answer is going to devastate Derek.

It's unfair, though, Stiles knows, to keep the information to himself. As much as it's going to hurt, Derek _needs_ to know.

"My mom knew something," he whispers into the quiet between them. "She knew something about the fire, about Kate Argent, and they wanted to keep her quiet."

“I have to tell Laura,” Derek leans forward in his seat, almost bending in half. “I’m going to be sick.”

Scott puts a hand on Derek’s back and stares across at Stiles. Stiles closes his eyes.

***

 

“If his wounds are so bad, why not take him to St. Mungo’s?” Stiles asks, eyes trained on Laura Hale. A week has passed since the truth came out and no one is any closer to catching Peter Hale than before. It sets Stiles’ teeth on edge. “Why would you make the trip all the way down here?”

The Shrieking Shack groans around them. Derek lays on the bed behind Stiles, recovering from last night’s full moon. Scott sits in the chair next to the bed and Stiles can feel him watching the two of them carefully.

Laura grimaces. She looks like she’s trying to hold back a snarl, still tender from the night before, but she reels it back quickly enough. “Derek will be okay,” she says. “He’s already starting to heal.”

Stiles glances back just long enough to take in the long gashes across Derek’s chest. If Stiles put his hand over the marks, he could fit each finger to a slash – like Derek reached up with his clawed hand and ripped into his own flesh.

Well, not ‘like’ – that’s exactly what happened.

Stiles looks back at Laura. “Why come here, then, if you know that he’ll be okay? Do you always make the trip to Hogwarts after the full moon?”

“No,” Laura admits. “I don’t.”

“Stiles,” Scott starts, “Maybe you shouldn’t –”

Stiles waves a hand back to hush him. “No. No, I really think I should. Why did you come today, but not any of the other full moons?”

Laura growls, a hand coming up to push her hair out of her face. “I can’t find Peter.”

“You can’t find Peter,” Stiles repeats in disbelief. “You knew – Derek _told_ you that you needed to keep an eye on him and you what? What did you do?”

Stiles realizes he’s yelling when Scott sets a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him back. He can’t bring himself to care much.

“Derek told you why we needed to know where Peter was at all times at you, what – you didn’t believe him?”

“You don’t know anything!” Laura shrieks back at him. “You’re just some kid who’s been stringing him along all year!”

“Oh,” Stiles says, and he gets it now, he really does. “No, you just didn’t believe _me_.”

He turns away from Laura, dismissing her. Scott still stands just behind him and Stiles reaches out and grabs him, hands right under his elbows. Scott cups Stiles’ elbows in his hands. “You need to take Derek to the Hospital Wing. I need to find Headmaster Deaton and tell him what’s going on.”

“What about her?” Scott asks, gesturing to Laura with his head.

“I don’t care,” Stiles says, “as long as she stops aiding the criminals who set fire to her family.”

Laura sucks in a breath like she’s been punched. _Good_ , Stiles thinks viciously. She deserves the truth.

“Oh, Stiles,” Peter says, stepping through the doorway and out of the shadows. His mouth twists into a smarmy smile. “I really do like you, Stiles. You’re so smart.”

Stiles spins, wand raised. He doesn’t have to look to know that Scott has his up as well. Laura closes ranks with them.

“It’s such a shame,” Peter continues, “that I’m going to have to kill you.”

Stiles throws everything he has into the spell he lets fly free – every happy memory, his mom and dad, Nona, kissing Scott for the first time, the way Derek looks at him. Silver tendrils flow from the tip of his wand, converging into the shape of a fox. She leaps around the corners of the room before circling around Peter once, twice.

Peter laughs. “I’m no dementor, dear boy.”

Stiles watches as his patronus bounds up the tunnel and away to find the Headmaster. He’s desperate to keep Peter’s focus on him, however, so he quickly asks, “Why did you do it?”

Peter pauses, like he hadn’t anticipated the question. He cocks his head and takes two steps across the floor. “Do what?”

Stiles tightens his grip on his wand. He repeats, “Why did you kill your family? What did you get out of it?”

He hopes Peter will take the bait – Peter looks like he gets a thrill talking about himself – and give him the extra time to come up with an actual plan.

Peter looks over at Laura and then to Derek, still unconscious and healing on the bed, before turning back to Stiles. “Do you know how much power backs the Hale name?” Peter smirks. “Imagine the headlines: _Peter Hale – sole survivor of the fiendfyre that ravaged the Hale’s ancestral home_.”

Peter drops his hands from where he framed the air in front of him. “But, of course,” Peter lifts his lip into a snarl, “not everyone was in the house when Kate cast the spell. I had to share the spotlight with the two other survivors – Laura and Derek.”

“The _spotlight_?” Laura cries. “That’s what you care about?  Our family is dead and you care about what? The attention? The power?”

She lifts her wand, but Peter is quicker and he flings her out of the way and into a wall with a well-placed spell. She lands with a crash as the wall splinters beneath her. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Laura. You were set to become the next Hale matriarch,” Peter scoffs. “Like I would willingly bend my neck to a child.”

Laura lays dazed for a moment, and Peter turns back to Stiles and Scott. Derek picks this time to wake up, coming to with a groan.

“Do you know what makes born werewolves so different than bitten werewolves, Stiles?”

Laura swears behind Stiles, struggling to pull herself out of the caved-in wall, and yells, “Get out of the way!”

Her transformation rips through her and Stiles tries not to feel intimidated at the werewolf he can feel huffing at his back. He scrambles backwards and lets her step in front of him.

He hears Derek trying to push up off the bed, a low growl rattling around in his chest, and Scott rushing back to him.

Peter clucks his tongue at Laura. “Well, that wasn’t very nice, Laura, ruining my big reveal like that. But as you can see from my niece, Stiles, born werewolves can shift at will – not just when the moon hangs fat in the night sky. So even though the moon has set, I can still rip you limb from limb.”

Laura meets the newly transformed Peter in a clash of limbs and claws. They fight viciously, each going for the throat. The scent of blood fills the room almost immediately. Stiles doesn’t want to take his eyes off the fight, but Derek is still healing and Scott – _Scott_ – is still in the room.

Stiles turns, hands frantic, and looks at Scott and Derek with wide eyes and shouts, “You’ve got to get out of here!”

A high whimper fills the room as Peter once again smacks Laura into the wall, this time with a strong paw, not a wand. Peter hulks on his two hind legs and turns toward where Stiles and Scott are helping Derek up into a stand.

Peter doesn’t even look like a werewolf anymore – he looks like a monster, like a great beast, and Stiles thinks the fear he feels is warranted. It’s a justified fear – a fear of harm to himself, a greater fear of harm to two people who mean so much to him. Peter roars when Stiles pulls out his wand.

“Get Derek out of here,” Stiles says to Scott.

Scott tries to protest, “I’m not leaving you here –” when Peter attacks.

The pain doesn’t bloom in Stiles’ body until Peter starts to drag him across the floor. His sharp claws glide into Stiles’ stomach, easy as anything, and hook upward, gripping tightly into his flesh. Stiles imagines that Peter can curl his claws around his rib bones.

Stiles loses his wand somewhere along the way, can hear Scott slinging spell after spell at Peter, can hear the howl that rips itself from Derek’s throat – Derek, who is still too weak to shift.

Laura springs toward Peter again and Stiles screams when she makes contact because her mouthful of Peter’s shoulder causes him to twist his claws in Stiles’ gut.

Stiles realizes through the pain and the blood – _there’s so much blood_ , he thinks – that he’s going to die here.

He can hear the blood pumping through his body in time with the squelching of the blood leaving his stomach in gushes. He looks up at Scott and Derek, sees the heartbreak written over both of their faces and thinks, desperately, _’Take care of him.’_

Stiles starts to fade out of consciousness. He imagines he hears footsteps running up the tunnel – Peter’s body blasting away from him – Scott falling to his knees beside Stiles, panic written over his face  – a lightning bolt scar –

The last thing he thinks he dreams is Peter pulling himself up and digging his fangs into Scott’s side and a flash of bright, bright green light.

***

Madam Pomfrey decides to put Stiles into a magical coma so he can heal the worst of his injuries in peace. It's unnerving, watching Stiles lay still in his bed. Derek has a hard time reconciling the slow, steady beat of Stiles' heartbeat with that of Stiles' usual heartbeat pattern – it should be fast, erratic, jumping over from one beat to the next, not this metronome, a pale and sickly imitation.

Still, Derek has never heard anything sweeter, because it means Stiles is alive.

Scott lays in the next cot over, asleep. He's uninjured now, Peter's bite mark on his body faded to nothing.

Bandages cover Stiles' torso. They wind around his stomach and up his chest. Derek knows what his back looks like – Pomfrey cleaned what she could of Stiles' shoulders and back with magic, but she had to go in herself with tweezers to pick out the stubborn pieces of wood and glass.

Derek picks Stiles' hand up from his bed and covers it in both of his. It may be cowardly, but Derek has to say his piece to Stiles. Even if Stiles won't hear it, even if Derek has to repeat it when he wakes up – Derek has to say it now.

"I didn't think anything would come of this," he starts, speaking softly. "When Scott approached me, I never thought I would get anything out of this. Laura said it was a bad idea and I knew that you weren't interested either, but God. God, I wanted to try."

Derek thinks he hears someone come in, but when he looks back, it's just Madam Pomfrey, tending to some other students.

Derek continues, "I know you don't care about me, Stiles, but I – I care about you. And I think I could love you if you gave me the chance."

He thinks Stiles squeezes his hand, but he knows it must be wishful thinking because people don’t just rouse from magical comas – and then, " _Please_ ," Stiles rasps, cracking his eyes open just enough to find Derek's. Stiles barely shifts, wincing when the pain hits.

Derek watches him carefully, eyes wide.

"Do you really think," Stiles says, voice barely more than a whisper, "that I'd let you get this close to Scott if I didn't care about you too?"

"Stiles," Derek says, but Stiles slips unconscious again before he can say more.

He sits there, stunned, until Scott rouses in his bed. Scott pushes up to his elbows and blinks sleepily. He must know something's up with Derek because he asks, "Everything okay?"

Derek manages a nod and then relays what happened while Scott smiles dopily.

Scott rolls over on his cot and lazily kicks out a foot to nudge Derek's arm. He says, "Told you he'd come around. He's stubborn like that."

Derek nods slowly.

Scott smiles and says, "We're going to be so good, man."

"Yeah," Derek agrees. A smile curls its way around his face to match Scott’s.

By the time Madam Pomfrey wakes Stiles up – for real, this time, with a counter-spell – Stiles’ dad has arrived and the sun is high in the afternoon sky.

Stiles’ dad – “Call me John, son.” – sits in the chair next to his bed, watching carefully as Stiles scrunches his face in an effort not to wake up.

“No,” Stiles moans. “G’way, sleepy-sleep time.”

“Wake up, Stiles.”

Stiles cracks open one eye and peers around until he locates his dad. “Oh, man, on a scale of ‘not at all’ to ‘dragon escaping Gringotts’, how mad are you?”

“Think the teapot incidence when you were six,” John says.

Stiles opens both of his eyes and looks around the infirmary. He spots Scott and Derek sitting on the next bed over, side by side, and flails a hand at them in an approximation of a wave. Scott shoots him a watery smile and Derek looks down at his hands.

“So, kind of annoyed but not super mad?” Stiles asks.

John rolls his eyes and stands up. “No, I’m not mad. You were really brave today. I’m proud of you. I hope this doesn’t mean you want to become an Auror now.”

Stiles grimaces, “Got enough of those in the family already, Dad.”

John turns to Scott and Derek and says, “Good luck with him. I’ll be back later. I’m going to go talk to –” he waves his hand in the air – “adults.”

John leans down to press a kiss to Stiles’ forehead and ruffles his hair. “Be good.”

Stiles follows John’s path as he leaves the infirmary and smiles. “He totally loves me, you know,” he says defensively, flopping his head over to look at Scott and Derek. “I’m his favorite son.”

“You’re his only son,” Scott quips dutifully.

“Ouch,” Stiles says. He palms the left side of his chest and studiously ignores the bandages. “That hurts me in a heart place.”

Scott slips off the bed and carefully climbs into bed next to Stiles. He settles in on his side and wraps an arm carefully around Stiles’ midsection. Derek stands up next to the bed.

Stiles reaches out a hand toward Derek and grimaces as the pain spreads through his chest. It burns and he can’t help but focus on it for one long moment until he feels a hand grip his. Stiles looks up at Derek.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says.

Derek shakes his head, confused, “Why are you apologizing to me?”

Stiles looks away from Derek and looks to Scott.  He says, "I love Scott. I want him to be happy. And you make Scott happy. I need to stop getting in the way of that."

Scott smiles at him, eyes watery – the big sap.

Derek says, "He loves you too."

Stiles smirks and says, "Yeah, he does." He rubs his free hand against his face. "I just – I got scared. I thought that if I didn't let anyone else close, I wouldn't have to lose them. I can't lose anyone else, you know? But I think, I think we could make it."

He looks back at Derek and reaches his hand up to grab at Derek's gaudy Gryffindor tie. Derek grins at him. He's got a beautiful smile.

"We?" Derek asks, picking up on the word Stiles purposefully chose.

Stiles says, "I mean, I'm willing to try if you guys are. I want to be happy and I want Scott to be happy – and you, you deserve to be happy too, Derek. I want to give you that."

"Yeah," Derek breathes. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

****  


 

***

 

(Epilogue: an hour and a half after Madam Pomfrey finally gets fed up and kicks everyone – “By everyone, Mr. McCall, I mean _you_ too.” – out of the Hospital Wing)

When Stiles wakes up again, it’s not his dad next to his bed, nor is it Scott nor Derek.

Nope.

Harry-freaking-Potter sits in the chair next to Stiles’ cot, twiddling his wand around in his hands.

Stiles shoots up and chokes on air.

“Oh, don’t do that, Madam Pomfrey will kill me,” Harry – Mr. Potter? Auror Potter? Oh _Merlin_ , this is not helping Stiles sooth his shaky nerves in any way – says. He twirls his wand over the jug of water so it tips itself and pours into a cup, which Harry hands over to Stiles with worried eyes. “You alright, there?”

Stiles takes a sip of the water and manages to nod.

“I have to say, I’m really glad that I decided to come a day early. Ron said I was getting too excited, but I don’t think so,” Harry looks up wistfully, so Stiles looks up too, taking in the stone archways that line the ceiling. “This old place is the first home I can remember.”

Harry shakes his head as if he’s clearing out the cobwebs.

“You get into a lot of trouble, don’t you? Don’t worry too much about it.” Harry looks back down at Stiles and smiles, a twinkle in his eye. “All the best people do.”

Stiles wheezes while he tries to find something to say that won’t completely embarrass him.

“Just go with it,” Harry says wisely. “So, hey, you know your Aunt Luna? And how she and Neville are dating?”

“I did not actually know that,” Stiles says, blinking, “but now I do.”

“Whoops,” Harry sucks in a breath and widens his eyes behind his glasses, but he doesn’t seem all that concerned. “I’m gonna ask them to go to dinner with me.”

Stiles thinks about it for a moment and then he thinks about what that would mean – Harry watches the realization hits Stiles with a grin, “Oh yeah, I could be your uncle.”

Stiles pushes himself up onto his elbows and breathes out, “Scott is never going to believe this.” And then, because Stiles is nothing if not a little shit, he says, “Actually, we’d be cousins.”

It kind of backfires on him, though, because that’s right: he would be cousins with Harry Potter.

“You’re not going into shock, are you?” Harry asks, eyes narrowed behind his round glasses. He reaches back where Stiles has amassed a large pile of gifts – and how did that happen in such a short period of time? – and grabs something out of a basket.

“Have a piece of chocolate,” Harry says. He pulls back the wrapper and then hands the whole thing over to Stiles.

Stiles takes the chocolate bar and breaks a piece off to eat. This is definitely the most surreal experience Stiles has ever had. “I – What is going on right now?”

Harry hums under his breath, something happy, and says, “Good things, Stiles. Good things are happening now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: 
> 
> 1\. The second scene depicts the torture Stiles and one of his mothers experienced at the end of his sixth year. It's not a physical torture, but there is liberal use of an Unforgivable Curse.  
> 2\. Throughout the work, Stiles deals with the aftermath of the above torture. There are descriptions of two panic attacks he goes through in the work. He has a hard time remembering names of students he's learned this year as a result of the torture. He also can't apparate on his own. His brief stay in St. Mungo's is also referenced.  
> 3\. Stiles's mother, Antonia, is in the same care ward at St. Mungo's where Neville Longbottom's parents live. It's referenced in the work that sometimes she recognizes her family, but other times she does not.  
> 4\. Toward the end of the work, Peter Hale attempts to kill Stiles by way of evisceration. It is also referenced, but not outright stated, that Peter Hale is killed.
> 
> Spanish Translation (in case the hover didn't work)  
> "Oh my love, come here."  
> "Breathe deeply."  
> "Damn!"
> 
>  
> 
> [*](http://deerie.tumblr.com)


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